He was headed nowhere in particular, but getting there in a very specific manner. Whenever a path showed itself, he treaded; be it by plane, boat or foot. Or, as in this case, bus.

The rain trailed down the window as the landscape – the mostest coastline countryside he had ever seen – passed by, one bump at a time. He idly wondered how far it was left to go to wherever, when suddenly the bus stopped at what seemed to be the end of everything, with the driver announcing:

It was a sound that approached from the distance. It could be heard long before its source could be seen, and boy could it be heard. It was not quite a gallop, but the word was not entirely wrong; all the elements were there, kathumping at the speed deemed necessary for the plot. Usually, the sound ended with another sound taking its place, a less commanding but equally distinct noise: